


Nico meets Hades

by pineforest (exul_ansis)



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Missing Scene, Post-The Titan's Curse (Percy Jackson), Underworld, don't know what else to put here, pretty depressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26620621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exul_ansis/pseuds/pineforest
Summary: When Percy tells Nico about Bianca's death, he runs.Before he finds himself in a strange Labyrinth, though, he tries to have her back with all his might.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Nico meets Hades

**Author's Note:**

> it bothered me that there's nothing about Hades and Nico meeting for the first time. also, it bothered me not knowing how Nico fell into the Labyrinth. so, I wrote that myself.

Nico started feeling like he was falling down a hole. A vast, black hole that he could not get out of. And it was terrifying.

He was running through the woods, hoping that somehow running would have helped him forget what had just happened. Like the realization that her sister was dead because of Percy could simply disappear behind him if only he had been fast enough to leave it behind.

But his chest was keeping on constricting and, the more he ran, the more the new and renovated sense of loneliness and despair seemed to cling onto him. His tears kept on streaming down his face, and he wasn’t even trying to stop them by then. There was no point in even trying because nobody could hear him cry and sob in between those thick, dark woods, lightened up only by the falling snow.

He was cold. He could have gone back to take something from that friendly centaur that had been so kind to him since his sister had gone on that stupid, stupid quest he always had had an awful feeling about.

Like he had just told Percy, all his gut feelings and nightmares had been right.

The only thing that was still giving him hope was that he could still see Bianca. She was still in front of the judges, in what he knew were the Fields of Asphodel. He had heard that name in some of the dreams he was having lately.

He knew that was the place where people went to when they died but, if he could still feel Bianca, then maybe it meant that he could still save her. Like in Mythomagic, where he could sometimes revive one of his powerful cards from the cemetery. There had to be some trick to bring her back, he was sure.

What was still worrying him were those skeletons that had appeared from nowhere and that Percy tried to fight off.

His mind felt completely full, but he knew that he had felt something when that crack opened in front of them. A connection to the ground, almost visceral, and he was still wondering how the heck that could have happened.

He had to come to a halt when he felt his throat and chest burn so much it was painful to even breathe. He rested against the closest tall tree, trying to catch his breath but not managing to do so as efficiently as he had thought. At least he had stopped crying somehow, the tears on his cheeks still feeling heavy and cold, his breath huffed and heavy.

He rested against one knee. He tried calling for Bianca out of fear, because he was still not managing to breathe as normally as he would have liked, only to realize that she could not hear him. Because she was dead.

And all the bad, bad feelings came back. He fell on his knees, thinking that there was no point in walking anymore. He had nowhere to go, but he most definitely was not going back.

In the end, he had two options: either accept his sister was gone, something he couldn’t do anything about (this entailed not searching for her and leaving her to walk alone wherever she was going). Or, he could try to save her.

He knew that she had to stay where she was. Inside of him, there was this voice telling him that taking her back was not an option. It felt like breaking the rules, which he didn’t usually enjoy doing. Rules were there for a reason, his mother kept on repeating to him when he would push her to satisfy his requests. That much, he remembered.

He still had to understand why he couldn’t recall almost anything about her, but that was not the time to try and remember his mother’s face.

He had to act quickly, a sense of urgency telling him that, if he really wanted to try and bring Bianca back, he had to move.

He was still sobbing but that, he knew, wasn’t helping anyone.

So he got up from the wet ground, a thin layer of snow resting on the grass, taking in a deep breath.

It wasn’t too late. His sister didn’t have to go. Not yet.

It wasn’t fair.

He put one foot in front of the other and started walking. He didn’t know where, and he still had no idea how to reach the place where her sister was still talking with some men he had never met but knew were important, somehow.

Nico started thinking, hard.

The connection he felt to the earth, it was still there. He couldn’t concentrate that much, since his head was still spinning, but he knew that he could at least do something.

Then, he suddenly came to halt. His eyes widened with realization.

He could remember something, back when they were in that weird hotel in Las Vegas.

He couldn’t really place the event in time, but he knew something had happened once. There were these kids who were bothering him and his sister. They were acting strangely, talking about stuff that he couldn’t understand; about killing them and taking them back where they belonged. He hid behind Bianca because she told had told him so, as she did that time in Washington. As they were coming towards them, Bianca had taken his hand. He could remember darkness rising all around them. She was angry, he could tell. He started to suddenly feel cold, and a shadow from a near game machine started getting taller and taller, stretching towards he and his sister. Then, in the blink of an eye, he felt dragged somewhere. It was like being on some fast airplane. Or at least, that’s how he remembered it being from a dream he had. And just like that, after what felt like seconds, they found themselves in front of their room again. He suddenly felt really sick and had to vomit shortly after. He could guess Bianca was feeling the same, but she was strong enough not to let the nausea win. Bianca had stayed with him and comforted him, patting his back while he expelled what he had to. He vaguely remembered asking her if she had been the one to cause that, but he didn’t remember what his sister had answered him. In fact, he couldn’t recall anything after that.

If he still remembered that episode, though, then it had to mean something.

If it had been Bianca to cause that, then… just maybe, it meant he could do it too. They were siblings and, if what the other demigods had told them was true, then being children of some god meant they both could develop those cool powers.

His eyes searched for the nearest shadow, since that was still the major element in his memory. Maybe he could control it somehow, he thought.

He had no explanation for that thought, but that was the only way he could think about that would allow him to reach her. He could try doing something like what he had done before to stop the skeletons, but he didn’t want to try jumping in a hole in the ground. Also, the ground had felt really hot under his feet when the crack had opened, and he could clearly remember seeing flames coming out of the gap. He really didn’t want to risk getting burned, or worse.

Bianca’s judgment was over, so he had to be quick.

He stared intensely at the shadow of the tree in front of him, not really knowing what he was supposed to think or do to make something happen.

He tried commanding it to come towards him. That didn’t work.

It had to be something else. He extended a hand towards it, just like he saw the characters in the game machines do when they would release their powers, and ordered it to extend again. The shadow stayed still, not showing any sign of movement.

He became frustrated. He gritted his teeth and tried harder. Maybe he wasn’t putting enough energy into it.

He felt his face redden with the effort, his muscles tense and his eyes squint.

Nothing.

He let go of the tension, growling loudly in frustration. He reluctantly wiped away the few tears left on his cheeks and stomped his feet on the soft ground, feeling his eyes watering again in anger.

That _had_ to work. There was no way he was letting his sister go like that without even trying.

He started thinking again, just because he had nothing else to do by that point.

All he could think about, apart from the incessant passing of time, was the moment when the crack had opened on the marble floor of the mess hall. Maybe he had to recreate the conditions that led it to form in the first place.

He thought and thought about what he could use to make it happen again. He tried searching for something in common between that situation and his memory from Las Vegas.

Both times he had felt cold, he thought. But the cold came during, not before and not after. So, it couldn’t be just that.

He paced back and forth in front of the shadow, crossing his arms on his chest trying to chase away the cold air. He had to hurry, or he could have lost contact with Bianca’s spirit. She was getting farther away by the second. He didn’t have the luxury to think clearly.

He thought of himself getting so angry and frustrated that he had to scream, while Percy was still trying to fight off the skeletons and was yelling at him to run like Nico was still a little kid.

He didn’t need to be protected. He was the son of someone important, so he could bet he had enough power in him to defend himself.

That thought made the burning feeling in his chest grow even more. Percy could not protect his sister, so how could he even _think_ he would have been able to protect him?

He felt furious again, his fists tight and nails digging in the sleeves of his jacket. He stomped his feet again on the ground, trying not to start sobbing again.

Then, he felt it. The darkness behind his shoulders, the temperature dropping around him again. He quickly turned around to look behind his shoulders, eyes wide and reflexes ready to run. He saw nothing.

He furrowed his brows together, trying to understand.

Then came the realization, his thoughts falling into place and finally making some kind of sense.

Just before, he had felt really angry. Bianca had seemed angry with those stupid guys too, in the huge hotel. Superheroes would become all angry and pissed too when they would crush all the bad guys in the comics he had read.

He just needed to get angry some more, and then maybe the shadow would have listened to him.

Nico turned towards it, fists tight, and now long his sides.

“Take me to my sister,” he commanded, his voice more hesitant than he thought it would be.

That sounded stupid, and he hoped nobody had heard him.

Maybe it had been his imagination, but the shadow seemed to suddenly darken in front of him.

So, he tried again, heavy frustration building inside him.

“Take me to my sister, now!” He managed to scream, stomping his feet on the ground again.

Fear, surprise, and pride all ran through him when the shadow began to enlarge under his feet, and he squeezed his eyes shut as soon as he felt darkness and cold engulf him to drag him down.

He tried to be as still as possible, paralyzed with both panic and anticipation. Moving felt like swimming under deep, deep water while being pushed under by some strong pressure. His breathing was constricted, and every time he inhaled it felt like trying to raise his chest with something pressing it back down. There was no wind around him, nor air. Everything was static while being in motion.

He could not locate himself in space; he just knew he was going down.

He had never experienced something like that, but the feeling of being inside the darkness felt strangely familiar since he still vaguely remembered it from when Bianca had dragged him through it behind her.

After what felt like ages, he finally felt his feet touch something solid below him.

He started to open his eyes and, as he did, he saw the shadows retreat into the ground like some sort of black mist. Then, he fell to the ground on his knees.

Unfamiliar exhaustion washed through him, and it suddenly felt like he hadn’t slept in days. It was a strange feeling, being that tired without even panting or sweating.

He just felt drained.

Then, nausea came. A huge wave of it, as if his guts needed to release that pressure he had been feeling just a few moments before; he felt it relax and then contract again, and he had to cover his mouth because he could feel acid coming up his throat.

He gritted his teeth and let out a heavy breath he didn’t know he was holding. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying for everything he had eaten at lunch to stay inside.

He swallowed painfully, disgust rising on his face when he felt the contents of his stomach on his tongue.

But he couldn’t stop now. He was determined to find her and take her back because, he assumed, he had left the hardest part behind.

His hands rested open on some dark, sandy ground. He could hear water flowing near him and, sure enough, as he looked up from the floor and started to slowly stand up again on trembling knees, he could register himself standing in front of a riverbank.

His eyes focused as he stared at how dark the water was; it looked like liquid mud, small objects rising to the surface before falling back down with the current. It wasn’t too strong, though, he noticed. 

His gaze fell farther away, towards the opposite side of the river. He eyed a huge, thick stone wall that appeared to have just one entrance, down to its right.

It wasn’t that far, he thought. Also, he could swim; or at least, he thought he could. He couldn’t recall when and where he had learned it, but he just knew. Never mind the fact that he felt too tired to even stand up properly.

Bianca was there, walking somewhere in front of him, and he was just stupidly staring and that tall, rocky wall.

He had to move, and fast, as he couldn’t see her with his mind’s eye anymore. She was fading by the second as he got closer to the water.

Just as he was about to jump, a voice came from afar, making him stop on his tracks.

“Good grief, child, what do you think you’re doing?!” A male voice called from his left.

Looking towards it with anxiety, Nico saw a long, flat boat floating in the middle of the river. It was coming towards him, this figure wearing a dark robe apparently directing it, standing on its front while holding a huge oar.

“Why do _children_ keep on coming here? Hadn’t he invested in security measures? Unbelievable…” The figure talked in a deep, warm voice.

He was half-frozen now, his legs still.

He wasn’t supposed to be there, and he knew. He probably had to run, he thought to himself. But there was no time to run and then come back for Bianca. Also, he somehow knew that if he were to run, his legs would have given up shortly after.

The only solution was to face the consequences and, if necessary, trying to defend himself with the few energies he had left in his body.

He could have done the same thing he did at the mess hall; he knew he could. Also, if really needed, he could just summon other shadows to take him away. The fact that the nausea was distracting him from doing everything else wouldn’t have stopped him.

The boat kept on getting closer to him, the man still blabbering something to himself before hammering the big oar down into the riverbed with a faint _clunk_ sound.

The figure looked down on him, and Nico made it so that he was met with his most serious, grown-up expression.

“Oh, I see…” He muttered, probably more to himself than to Nico. “You’re his son. I wondered when I would meet you. How come are you here, boy?”

Nico stilled at those words. He felt his face grow colder for two reasons; the first, he could now see that, under his dark robe, the man consisted of nothing more than an extremely thin, pallid man of whom he could only distinguish chin, hollow cheeks, and white, small lips. He looked more like a skeleton than a living person.

The second reason was that Nico now did recognize him.

He gulped noisily before speaking.

“Are you… are you Charon? The guy that carries dead people to the Underworld?” He hesitated.

“So, you know me. That spares me the pleasantries. But I have work to do, so it would be nice of you to answer my question,” Charon spoke, seemingly unimpressed by Nico’s comment.

Nico’s eyes widened as tried to gather his thoughts in his tired mind.

“I’m here for my sister. I have to go down there to see her, near the Fields of Asphodel,” Nico uttered, pointing towards the opening in the wall.

Charon didn’t turn to look. Instead, silence fell between them as Charon studied him like he was pondering on what to do.

“Well, I guess that’s not my problem, now is it?” He spoke again, this time looking in front of him, towards the end of the river. “Come on board, boy. I’ll drop you off on the other side and in front of where you need to go. From there on, it’ll be their problem.”

Charon then waited for him to get on the long craft. Nico did so carefully, stepping on the flat metal ground. He stayed behind Charon, admiring his robe moving with the hot, weak wind coming from before them.

“My services are not free, but I suppose you don’t have any money with you,” he stated, ignoring him. “So make sure the boss pays me right this time. These are tough times. Furthermore, I still haven’t gotten the raise I asked for.”

Nico had no idea what he was talking about.

All he could think about was that he was talking with the guy on one of the rarest and most powerful cards you could use to make your monsters come back from the cemetery in Mythomagic; you could activate it to make one of your characters come back completely healthy and with every single power-up still attached. The drawing on the card was almost completely accurate too, Nico thought, intently looking at him; except for the fact that the boat was long and solid and not at all made from broken and unstable wood slats. Its metal was dark, and it was so silent it seemed like they were not even moving. Beneath his feet, many small, green cards rested on its floor, looking like they could have been tickets.

The dark mist surrounding everything thickened the closer they got to their destination, and Nico noticed it kind of looking and smelling like smoke.

Despite nothing around them constituted a comforting sight, the silence and the warm atmosphere surrounding them was leaving him with an even more intense desire to lay down and sleep for days. His lids stareted to feel heavy, and he had to put all his strength into standing upright.

“I may be wrong assuming you already know this, but what in Hell were you thinking, trying to throw yourself in the Styx?” Charon suddenly questioned, sounding annoyed.

Nico quickly blinked away the black spots in his vision, swifly straightening up and chasing the exhaustion away. He stopped to ponder before speaking again.

“I wanted to get to the other side to reach my sister. I have to be quick, so I thought…”

“You don’t know what the Styx is, right, boy? May He forgive me if he found you taking a bath in here. _If_ he could even find you, that is… do you know you could incinerate your soul trying to swim in this?”

Nico paled again at that because no, he clearly hadn’t known. But now that he knew, he promised himself to be more careful when it came to rushed decisions. Especially in that place.

Then something clicked in his mind, his attention drawn by Charon again.

“Do you mean _Hades_ is here somewhere?” He asked, bewildered.

Charon responded with a dry chuckle.

“Where do you think you are, boy? What is this to you, a nice amusement park?”

It clearly wasn’t, Nico thought, lowering his head a bit. That had been a stupid question.

Charon kept on rowing, and it seemed odd to him that just one oar could push forward a long, heavy boat like that.

They were getting closer to the arch when Nico heard something growl aggressively in their proximity. The sound seemed to come from the entrance, so he turned towards Charon again, about to ask what that was.

“I’m sure you know about the big dog with the three heads. He’s pretty calm today, but who knows if he’ll let you in,” he explained, humming at the end. “Though I think he’ll make an exception. If he recognizes you, that is. If not… well, I hope you’re a fast kid.”

Charon laughed while Nico’s throat constricted as he swallowed again, hard.

If he hadn’t been scared by then, now he was starting to doubt if rescuing his sister had been a good idea. The feeling that this wasn’t right still resided somewhere within himself, and a shiver ran through his spine as he woke up from his half-asleep state.

He shook his head then, since he knew he had no choice. Letting Bianca go was not an option. Not when he had already lost her once.

“I can handle dogs,” he stated, tightening his fists and staring at the stone arch again that they were approaching.

Now being closer, he could see how many people were present in what seemed like a really long line, waiting for something.

What Nico had initially thought was an arch turned out to be the entrance of a dark, large cave with high ceilings full of huge, pointy rocks like the ones towering above them on the river.

The fog around them thickened even more the closer they got, until the boat came to a halt.

Charon then used one of his skeletal fingers to point towards the cave.

“There it is, where you need to go. And don’t try to jump in any other river, unless you want to die. Now get off my boat, boy. I don’t have all day.”

Charon didn’t have to tell him twice.

Nico jumped on the black, gravelly ground trying not to let his legs give in, before turning back to face Charon.

“Thank you, sir. I won’t jump into rivers,” Nico muttered.

“Oh, don’t start talking like your father now; it’ll give me a headache,” he replied, annoyed. “Good luck, kid, if you manage to find any.”

Then, just like that, Charon started moving again, his oar moving the water around him to make the barge move backward, gradually fading into the black mist.

That made more sense, Nico thought. And it was way cooler than him just struggling to carry the boat by himself.

He suddenly shook his head, and his eyes widened when he realized that Charon had mentioned his father. He would have like to run towards him again, on the side of the river. He ended up simply covering a distance of a few feet before stopping, almost panting.

“Wait! Who is my father? How do you know him?” He asked, raising his voice. “Can you also bring souls back from the dead?”

He heard Charon chuckle again, more distant now.

“You’ll find out soon what the rules are here. Don’t worry about it, boy!”

Nico watched as the boat became more and more translucent before seemingly disappearing into the mist, Charon’s dark robe being the last element to vanish from his view and into the gray fog.

And then, he was gone.

Nico didn’t get his answer. He was still thinking about it, staring at the oily water beside him, when a deafening bark came from behind him, echoing through the air.

He reflexively jumped turning towards the huge, black cave and the queue of people that seemed unbothered by all that noise. He felt his tiredness fade for a couple seconds before it was back again, stronger than before, making his bones ache.

He covered his ears when he heard the bark again, this time feeling it vibrate into his guts and eardrums.

The dog’s name was Cerberus; he knew because it was one of his favorite Mythomagic monsters. It had so many attack and defense points that he didn’t even need to use power-ups on him, most of the time.

A weak spark of excitement rushed through him before he realized that this was, probably, nothing to be excited about.

He hesitated again before reminding himself of the reason why he was there. He had already almost died just by trying to swim in a river that had turned out to be, as Charon put it, pretty deadly.

There was no reason to ponder. What was done was done; he got through the hard part, he reminded himself. He was ready to die to take his sister back to the living world again. He didn’t care about himself anymore.

So, he put on a determined expression. He was the child of a god; there had to be some kind of facilitation for him there. He just had to walk and talk like he knew what he was doing.

He let his still heavy arms fall to his sides and ignored how his head had started spinning as he walked towards the cave and the whispering people in front of it.

With every step, though, he came to the realization that those people were not people at all. Their bodies were all transparent, and he could see through each one of them.

He felt oddly out of place, and the feeling that he _really_ wasn’t supposed to be there washed through him again. The chills down his spine when he walked through the queue of ghosts were clear proof of that.

When entering the cave, he noticed how the barking had stopped.

He couldn’t see much at all, except for this green mist floating here and there; but what he _could_ see were three pairs of eyes glistening in the dark, not too far from him. He heard a dog sniffing the air avidly before hearing a deep, low growl coming from all around him.

His throat tightened, and he realized he was shaking. He tried to calm himself down, tightening his fists to make his fingers stop trembling.

It was just a dog, Nico thought.

What did Charon mean when he said Cerberus might recognize him, Nico didn’t know. But still, he was now using all the will he had left to take a couple more steps towards those small, dark eyes. Soon he began to see the huge, black body of a creature at least four times taller than him.

Then, he stopped. Because now the eyes were all looking right at _him_ , staring menacingly in the dark; and it was still growling.

Nico had to hold in a cry as he stared at its teeth: white, shiny, and sharp fangs. Lines of bright knives were just a few feet away from him, and there was nowhere for him to hide. He stayed still, hoping that somehow the darkness could protect him.

Cerberus could still smell his scent, though. He could hear the dog sniffing around, feeling his breath coming in big huffs in front of him.

He tried not to look at the dog’s faces. But when he did, he was met with dark, glistening eyes studying him. He stared right through them, eyes wide and paralyzed with fear.

Then, the growl stopped. Strangely, the dog backed up and turned around, and he had to move quickly before he could be met with Cerberus’ huge back paws. Just like that, the dog appeared to go back to where it was before.

Nico saw it sit on the ground before he heard nails scratching the surface of the cavern, and the only sound left was the dog’s mouth chewing on something he would rather not find out.

He let out a shaky, hesitant breath and fought for his body to stay upright.

He briefly noticed that the ghosts around him seemed to avoid him, the line through which he decided to walk forming an empty circle around his spot. The whispers were still there, though, but they were distant chattering that he could not distinguish.

He started breathing again, his heart still beating incredibly fast and out of his control. He took another hesitant, heavy step towards the end of the line, where he could distinguish three different doors. Nothing moved with him, except one of the lines that was, instead, going faster than the one at his left.

So, he kept on walking, trying to avoid attracting any more attention to himself.

He studied the doors, confused. He still felt heavy, his legs working just because he desperately wanted them to. He would have given anything for a bed, but he tried not to lose sight of his purpose.

Reading what was written on the doors, looking at the “Easy Death” sign, he realized that the text would sometimes switch from English to Italian. That was weird, he thought. But, at least, he knew he wasn’t going that way.

He noticed some really strange machines, dead people passing underneath making them beep and lighten up before being checked by odd people dressed in black tunics. Just like Charon, Nico could not distinguish their faces.

He had to be brave, he thought to himself as he turned to look at the huge dog again: maybe he had recognized him, as Charon had said. If a dog could, then it meant that those beings could too. Or at least, he assumed, they could talk.

So, he did what felt right. He skipped the line and went straight to those beeping machines.

“The queue starts in the _back_ , kid,” A figure said, with a deep, unearthly voice. “Wait like everyone is doing, or else.”

He stopped on his tracks, looking at the figure in front of him. He frowned before answering.

“I am not dead! I have to go find my sister,” he commanded, determined. “Let me through.”

The figure just turned towards him, like it didn’t expect him to talk back.

“Won’t you look at this. How did you get through _without_ being dead by now?” The figure laughed.

He didn’t know how to answer that. So, he replied with the first thing that came to his mind.

“Ask the dog, not me. Charon brought me here and said I could get through.”

The figure stayed silent for some moments, regaining seriousness.

“Pretty bratty, are we?” It spoke sourly. Another hooded figure was now coming towards them near the corner of Nico’s vision. “Hey, George!”

“What now? I was about to finish my shift, for Hell’s sake,” the other sighed with an even deeper, inhuman voice that sent shivers through Nico’s spine. And he sounded pretty pissed.

“There’s this weird kid here that says Charon let him in. You know anything about this, or do I have to call the authorities?”

“I am not a _weird kid_ , I’m – “

“What do we have here?” The other figure studied him with eyes that Nico could not see. There was smoke coming out of their tunics, and Nico didn’t want to know what was inside. “Oh, of _course_. He’s his son. What are you doing here again?”

“I’m here to see my sister,” said Nico, annoyed and too tired to think of anything else.

The figure seemed to ponder for a bit, looking at a folder in its hands.

“She passed a while ago, yes,” he said casually, closing the folder and looking directly at him. “And why, again, are you here wasting our time? The Fields are the other way.”

“I have to talk to the judges,” Nico replied, getting even more frustrated. Also, he didn’t like being called “weird kid”. He had had enough of hearing that wherever he went.

“You have to this, you have to that,” the figure scoffed. “You and your father don’t know manners, do you?”

“But I –“

“You cannot do that. The judges are busy, come back another day and find something else to do in the meantime,” it spoke again, not letting him finish. “I’m done here, my shift is over.”

Nico felt blood rushing to his head.

He had no idea who his father was, but he definitely didn’t care about manners and some idiot ghost guy telling him what he should and shouldn’t do. He was running out of time, and he was going to get through that door and do whatever he needed to do.

He stayed silent, waiting for the figure to turn its back on him, clinging his fists.

“Okay, kid, just go back to wherever – _what_ are you doing?!”

He was running, that’s what he was doing.

With the few energies he had left he ran past the weird machines that started beeping like crazy as soon as he passed through them. Soon he started hearing screaming, growling voices yelling behind him, getting angrier and louder by the second.

He didn’t care. Now in front of the backdoor, he escaped finding himself outside of the cave. Running past the ghosts and whispering people waiting in line in front of a tall, he rushed to the black tent that looked like it could host a circus show. The sign above it read “Judging Pavilion”, and he knew he was going the right way.

He quickly entered the tent, breathing heavily and leaning on his knees for support.

Everything was eerily quiet. The people he could hear talking just a few seconds before now just sat quietly on their high bench.

Nico had a look at them, still panting.

They were all looking at him: three towering figures, of which he recognized just one.

He paled when he stared at the man in the center, with dark hair and a formal uniform. A weird, square-shaped mustache sat on top of his bottom lip, and a surprised, angered look formed on his hard face. He had already seen that face, he was sure; he just had no idea where. His gut was telling him to fear him.

To the man’s right, there was this woman dressed in weird clothes. Her hair was tied-up and she wore an armor that he could guess was pretty old. She was pretty, but her expression was just as stoic as the other man’s beside her who was dressed in ancient clothes too. A long, white tunic covered his head on which Nico could spot a golden crown. He had a long, white beard and he too was studying him with cruel eyes.

“What are you doing here?” The man with the mustache spoke with a thick, hard accent.

He swallowed, struggling to catch his breath and feeling his throat dry up.

“I’m here to take back my sister, sir,” he stuttered, trying to sound authoritative; but their stern looks were making him way too hesitant. “I know she’s dead, but I can bring her back. I can give you anything you want!”

The man with the mustache seemed especially unimpressed by his words.

“You should not bother people while they are working,” he spoke again, his tone harsh. “There is nothing you can do for your sister. She has passed away and is now in Elysium. You are not allowed to go there, and you definitely should not be here, boy.”

“Oh, Adolf, let the boy speak,” the woman talked, tone low and authoritarian. She too had an accent, just a much softer one.

Nico recognized that name, but he wasn’t in the right mind to think about where he had heard it before. He was too busy keeping his eyes open and his thoughts functioning.

The man seemed to stiffen up a bit, annoyed, before she started speaking again.

“We know who you are, Nico. You are a brave kid, coming here by yourself on this journey. Despite this, you cannot bring your sister back with you,” she explained, adding sweetness to her voice. “As you know, there are rules about the dead: you cannot bring anyone back once they have entered the Underworld.”

“But this is not fair! She’s gone because of Percy,” Nico yelled, feeling his strength leaving him all at once. “She didn’t want to die!”

“Death is never fair, as nothing is fair in the world. No one wants to die, but in the Underworld, everyone is given what they have given in life,” she spoke again, with the same severe, mellow tone.

His stomach dropped. He knew that was true; he just didn’t want to accept it.

“Oh, you and your ethical monologues. Let him go see his sister. We can do that,” The man with the crown spoke with a dismissing gesture, his tone sour. “She’s not in Elysium yet. She might be soon, though, so you better rush.”

Nico’s eyes lit up at that.

He was about to start walking again, when he heard someone coming up behind him, holding him by his arms. He reflexively tried freeing himself, kicking and pushing.

“Let me go, now!” He commanded, trying to break free with all his might. But he was so tired he almost couldn’t feel his own legs.

“You’re not going anywhere, kid. We’re taking you back to where you came from,” Some low, growling voices spoke, and he recognized them as being the same hooded figures from before.

“You free him at once,” The man in the white vest spoke with a loud voice. “He’ll do what he needs to do, and then he’ll be on his way. Right, sir?”

Nico looked at him, studying his face. He was looking at him intensely, and Nico realized he had just called him “sir”.

He felt encouraged by those words, regaining his proud expression. He had to act adult. He was not a little kid that needed to be told what to do anymore.

“Yes. I just need to talk to her and then… I’ll go,” he murmured weakly, almost hanging from the hands of the beings behind him.

There was silence for some moments until he heard one of them grunting. They dropped him back on the floor, where he fell on his knees.

Feeling the ground beneath him again, he realized how much his eyes were protesting to stay open. Every second felt like he was sinking into comfortable darkness, and he had to fight to keep them open and remain alert.

He pushed himself up with his hands, hearing the two hooded figures leave the tent grunting something under their breaths.

Nico held his head high with all his might, walking towards the opposite side of the tent as soon as he managed to push himself upright.

“Thank you,” he muttered, glancing at the man in the crown again.

He just stared back at him coldly, the hint of a smirk forming on his thin, white lips.

Nico diverted his gaze then, as he heard the three judges murmur again indistinctively while he finally found himself outside the black tent.

There were two paths in front of him; one of them led down towards a valley from which inhuman, piercing screams were reaching his ears. He definitely didn’t want to go there, he registered in his exhausted mind.

So, he went to the right, following the second path. He passed through what looked like a vast wheat field, but with tall, white flowers instead of spikes, going up towards a white-blue light in front of him.

He tried looking around, his lids starting to fall against his will, and his legs and arms practically hanging from his body.

The drowsiness was not just drowsiness now; it was pure exhaustion, pulsing through him and dragging him down towards the ground. Every step felt like the last one he could manage to take, before he found himself kneeling on the soft terrain, panting and trying to blink away the new spots in front of his eyes.

The fear of not knowing what was happening to him still sent sparks of panic through his body, just enough to keep him awake for a few seconds before his vision turned blurry and he couldn’t distinguish what was in front of him anymore.

“Bianca…” he managed to whisper before his vision went black, tears forming behind his closing eyelids.

As dark engulfed him, he sensed the presence of someone else near him, murmuring something he couldn’t understand.

And then, he was gone.

He dreamed about his sister dying, again and again, every time leaving him with the ugliest, deepest sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach. A familiar sense of loneliness crept through him every time he would see her go and disappear in some white fog in front of him, and he would scream for her to come back until his throat ached. He would bawl his eyes out before another dream would start again, every time with the same dreading ending. He got a brief glimpse of Percy in his dreams, along with Annabeth and Grover, as they lived on while he would beg them to help him take his sister back. They never listened, as though they couldn’t even hear him, and every time he would feel anger and frustration filling up his skull and he would just end up either screaming at them or crying on some cold, icy snow on his knees.

He had no idea how long it had been before he tried to open his eyes. His eyelids were still as heavy as stone, and it was so comfortable and warm all around him.

He registered the feeling of heavy, warm blankets placed over his body. The mattress he was sleeping on was so perfectly soft that he felt his arms and legs almost drowning in it, even though his neck felt slightly uncomfortable from the half-sitting position he was in. There was silence around him, and not a single sound could be heard apart from his steady breathing.

His lashes were wet, he briefly registered, before gradually descending into a heavy sleep again.

He dreamed about Bianca again, with their mother this time. He saw her screaming before he felt strong arms holding him and his sister together, taking him somewhere were his mom's cries wouldn’t reach his ears. He cried again, staring at the burning building in front of his eyes. And then came the same sinking feeling, dragging him down into a deep and uncomfortable sea of darkness.

He woke up again, startled. This time, his eyes opened for some brief moments, sparks of fear rushing through him as he registered the feeling of wetness all over. He was so cold, but he had clearly been sweating. His hair was stuck to his forehead and neck, and he could hear himself panting as he quickly scanned through an unfamiliar room. The four-poster bed he was in was big; probably three times his size. The green, velvety covers were decorated with golden-thread ornaments at the sides. With burning, half-open eyes he laid back on the soft cushions behind his head, noticing the dark-green walls around him, their tapestry looking as soft as the covers of his bed. He frowned when he noticed a couple golden candle holders holding the few sources of light in the room. He stared at the blue flames lighting up the walls with a dim light.

He lazily turned his head towards his right, trying to inspect the room for something else that could at least give him a hint as to where he was.

But he was so, so tired still. There were no windows, no clocks, nothing that could suggest how much time had passed from one awakening to the next. As he looked at himself, he noticed he wasn't wearing his usual clothes anymore; he had a plain-grey shirt on. It felt soft and warm, and all that heat coming from the covers was making him drift into unconsciousness again.

It wasn’t safe to just not know where he was. He should have stayed alert. He should have gone somewhere he didn’t remember.

But sleep was right there, and that place felt so safe. He felt home again, back in his old house of which he didn’t remember anything but the warm fireplace in the living room and his mom singing him to sleep.

Closing his eyes again, a smile formed on his lips as he drifted into a gentle slumber.

He woke up sometime later, his eyes finally opening properly and not burning that much anymore.

His breath was slow and steady, and the sweat on his clothes and forehead was gone. Turning his head to his right, he noticed a silver cup placed on the wooden nightstand beside his bed. To its side laid a small plate, half-filled with fruit.

He slowly sat up on the bed, his head spinning wildly as he sat upright. His neck protested when he turned it to look around the room, rubbing his eyes with his fists and yawning.

His mouth was extremely dry, and he turned to look back at the cup. He crawled to reach it, the bed being too big for him to even reach the outline while stretching his arm. He held the cup with his hand, noticing it shaking when he lifted it up to drink. As he gulped down the few contents of the glass, a warm sensation spread through his stomach and guts.

His eyes lightened up when he found out the taste in his mouth was reminiscent of something sweet and fruity. The image of an ice-cream cone came to his mind, his mother's hand holding it in front of him. _Gelato alla fragola_ , she told him as he licked the pink ice-cream from her hands.

He smiled, licking his lips. Still feeling thirsty, though, he observed the bottom of the cup. The few drops of the liquid left at the bottom were of a strange, golden color, almost glittering against the silver and shiny metal around them.

Nico placed the cup back where he had found it, and decided to try out that fruit that looked so inviting to his empty stomach.

As soon as he stretched out a hand to touch it, though, the silence in the room was interrupted by a couple voices seemingly coming from outside the door.

He stayed still then, attempting to listen.

“How much more, in your opinion?” An extremely low, raspy voice reached his ears. That made him shiver.

“No idea,” another, higher voice answered. “Did you hear about the new regulations for the Pavilion? About a scanner for their kind and all that?”

“It was about time, I would say,” the deeper voice replied, and Nico was now starting to fear the consequences of biting that inviting, golden grape-fruit in his hand.

Looking around the room yet again, he started to finally realize the reason why he ended up there.

He was trying to see Bianca. He was trying to bring her back.

A renewed rush of determination boiled in his blood as he closed his eyes, trying to feel her energy, detecting the direction from where it was coming from like he had done before he ended up in that strange bedroom. But, he couldn’t hear, or feel, anything anymore.

He clenched his fists tightly around the fruit in his hands, searching for something, anything he could use to look for his sister and locate her.

But, again, there was nothing. She just seemed so much further from him than before, and that terrified him.

Not even knowing what he was trying to do anymore, he swiftly got up from the soft mattress. He stood on the carpeted floor barefooted, looking at the golden fruit in his hand.

He had to run from that place and look for her.

People were trying to keep him from her; he just knew it. Why would he have fallen asleep when he had been so close to her otherwise? That fruit could have helped him during his journey. He still did not have any food left and had no idea where to search for it in that place.

He did not have time to look for it. He had to run.

The door was in front of him, and he gritted his teeth, prepared for what was to come.

He opened the door suddenly, hoping to catch the beings on the other side by surprise and therefore have some kind of advantage. As he stepped outside, he was met with a couple of translucent, decaying figures fluctuating off the ground; their hollow, dark eye-sockets staring back at him.

“Oh, he’s…” the higher of the two voices died off as he started running as fast as he could through the red-carpeted corridor stretching out in front of him. “Hey, he’s running!”

“Great observation, Tiberius,” the deeper voice commented in the distance while Nico turned left towards an open hall, almost falling to the ground from tripping on his own feet.

He was definitely tired, he could feel it in his bones. And he guessed the calmness in the skeletons’ voices wasn’t a good sign.

There had to be a way out, though, and the only openings he could find to that whole place were the huge, colored glass doors in front of him. He reached the golden handle, opening them towards the inside, and stepped out on the balcony.

Turning around, he was struck by the scenery for a moment. Extended flowery fields were stretched out in front of the huge building (which by now Nico guessed was a castle), rippling like waves in the sea. On the left, the scenery was interrupted by an opening in the ground from which high-pitched choruses of screams were coming from, tinted red from what seemed to burn like fire. In the distance, straight in front of him, a white light extended for miles, and Nico had no idea where that was coming from. Even recognizing how tall he was with respect to the ground, he still couldn’t tell if there was a ceiling to that place.

Blinking a couple times, he looked down. It was too high to jump, he thought. He could use the shadows like he had done before, though.

“Bring me down there!” He commanded eyes shut tightly. “Now!”

“Where do you think you’re going?” The higher voice reached his ears, and he swiftly moved on his feet, turning around to face the same two skeletons.

Despite being frightening, Nico couldn’t feel any threat coming from their voice, which puzzled him. Also because they were both yielding long, glistening swords in their hands.

“Let me out of here!” Nico yelled, losing his temper. “Where am I? Let me go see my sister. Let me out, or I will fight you.”

“I didn’t know the kid could fight,” the higher voice spoke again, a hint of irony in his tone.

Nico realized that, if he concentrated hard enough, he could see the face of the person talking. It seemed like a young man, no beard, and wearing a long, white shirt reaching his feet.

“He can’t,” the raspier voice precised, belonging to a man with a long, white beard and shoulder-length hair of the same color. “I wouldn’t advise you to challenge us, boy. We’re only here to supervise you.”

“I don’t care,” Nico spat, trying to look threatening. “I don’t need you to look after me. Let me out.”

“Okay, enough,” the beardless man was soon beside him, grabbing him by an arm. “You come with us now and the boss will decide what to do with you later.”

Nico struggled, trying to free himself from the man’s strong, firm grip. “No! I don’t want to!”

“Listen here, boy,” the lower voice commanded, loud. The bearded man with the wool cloak stood directly in front of him, placing the tip of his sword on the ground with a _clunk_. “There is no way out of here, unless you ask the Lord to let you out of his doors. We have clear instructions to take you to him, now that you’ve woken up. Now, silence and follow us,” he continued with a commanding tone. “You don’t want us make you. He disapproves of heavy discipline when it comes to you.”

Nico stared angrily at the man as he spoke.

He didn’t understand what he meant when he talked about the lord of that place but, remembering he was still in the Underworld, he knew there was a logical possibility of that being Hades.

And, considering what he had heard about him, there was a possibility he wasn’t going to get out of there anymore.

Despite that possibility, though, he still couldn’t shake off the feeling those two ghosts were not there to harm him. So, maybe, the king really just wanted to talk to him. Also, if there was anyone in that place who knew where to find his sister and give her back, it probably was him.

He sucked up his rage, gritting his teeth, and remained silent.

“Good,” the bearded man spoke, looking at him severely. “Keep an eye on him, Tiberius.”

“Follow us, little brat,” the other man pushed him to walk in between the two, and Nico had to really keep himself from spitting out an insult at that comment.

“Tiberius, that’s not how you treat his son,” the man in front reprimanded, walking (or better, fluctuating) inside.

“Kids nowadays are too undisciplined, Callisthenes,” the one behind him argued as they were heading towards a huge, black stone stairwell leading upstairs. “Back when I was a boy, I knew how to pay respect to authorities. Cadets respected me like I was a Mars himself.”

“And, like him, you’ve been too hard-headed to give up the fight when you should have,” the man called Callisthenes argued, teasing the other.

“I didn’t give up the fight,” Tiberius corrected. “I _escorted my men back to safety_.”

“I won’t get into this conversation now,” Callisthenes concluded, sighing, strolling down a long, bright marble corridor.

Nico had no idea what they were talking about but had the chance to get distracted by the shiny, golden-decorated walls. The carpet under his feet felt velvety and soft, which he found pleasant in comparison to the cold, marble floors he had walked on just before. In front of him, lightened by a huge candelabra shedding a pale-blue light towered a dark, massive wooden door. Its handles and metallic structure were tinted gold, so spotless that he could almost see his own reflection on the central bar.

“Now, wait here,” Callisthenes ordered him, trespassing the door without effort.

Nico was left in silence with Tiberius, listening to nothing but him complaining about how Callisthenes would mostly forget everything he would say to him, how they couldn’t talk because they would always end up fighting, and mostly things Nico wasn’t listening to.

He was nervous, but he didn’t want to admit that to himself.

Being scared had never brought good things; running was never useful because bad people and monsters would always find them, no matter where he and Bianca went. The few times they could take a breath were during their time in that Casino but, from when that man had come to take them out of there, everything had just gone worse and worse. First that school which he hated, because all the kids there would talk about stuff he didn’t know about like small video machines and games he had never heard of in his life, and everything felt so unfamiliar and odd. Then, the monsters and those demigods coming to save them, dragging them in that camp where everyone was older than him. Those girls that had tricked Bianca into going with them and leaving him alone while they went on that stupid, stupid quest without any reason.

And then there were those blurry memories he still couldn’t clear of the smoke that had formed in his mind throughout the years.

He still had no idea what his mother’s face was. He just knew she was dead, somewhere in that huge place in the Underworld, just like his sister. His dad, he had no idea who he was. The more he thought about him, the more he wanted to meet him again.

Sure, he had never been with him and his sister. He had never helped them, and never came to say hi, and didn’t ever made himself known to them from when they had left that Casino place. Still, Nico knew he was the only one who could still help him find Bianca. If he really was a god, like Percy and the others had mentioned, then he must have been powerful enough to get her back. He was more than sure of it.

Gods were so powerful they could crush monsters with just one hand. And he saw what their children could do. That girl, Annabeth, couldn’t do much because Athena couldn’t do much either – she just had a huge amount of defense points and appeared on a couple of ability cards. But Percy, he could really do everything he wanted with water. And he wasn’t that big either, so that meant that maybe (just maybe) he could do similar things too.

He just needed to find out who his father was and go back to him.

Just as he finished that thought, the doors slowly thrust open in front of him. They were strangely quiet to be that heavy, not touching the floor for just half an inch and silently moving to his sides, inviting him in.

As he stepped inside, encouraged by that Tiberius ghost with a light push, he didn’t know where to look anymore.

Many chandeliers were hanging from the dark, smooth stone, high ceiling, hung up by massive marble columns. They stood on each side of a blood-red, velvet carpet, sided by golden ornaments leading up to the throne where the king sat. It was full of skulls, and under it were lined up those big, black dogs and many skeleton warriors just like Tiberius and Callisthenes. Nico was struck by the golden veining of the marble covering the walls and the columns that made the stone look like it was moving.

“Come in,” the man on the throne spoke, and Nico thought that his voice was nothing like he had imagined a king’s voice to be like.

It was quiet and tired, not warm, and commanding as he had expected.

He had no time to move by himself, though, since Tiberius pushed him forward again.

“Stop doing that!” Nico finally spat, turning around to look at the ghost. “I can walk by myself.”

“I wouldn’t talk to him like that, son,” the man on the throne spoke again, gaining Nico’s attention. “That’s not how you convince people to do something for you.”

Nico didn’t know what that meant but, the more he heard the man in the black dress speak, the more it started to seem like they had met before.

Still, Nico hadn’t liked that comment.

“Tiberius, leave him,” the man commanded, gesturing towards Nico to come forward with a sickly pale, muscular arm. “Let me take a look at you.”

Nico adjusted the shoulder of his nightshirt before sucking in a breath, starting to walk the path towards the huge throne. He stopped just in front of it, aware of the dozens of eyes locked on his every move.

The man wore a harsh look on his face despite looking like he hadn’t slept in days. He had dark circles around his eyes, and his pale skin jumped even more to the eye contoured by straight, black hair that fell on his shoulders. Nico gulped when he realized the movement on the tunic he was wearing looked like shapeless, screaming faces.

Also, he had black eyes; just like him.

“Hello, Nico,” he greeted, voice quieter. “Tell me, do you know who I am?”

Nico stared, trying to take in every detail of his rigid face. The only things he could trust himself with were his Mythomagic cards, which must have laid where his clothes were. The only description he could fit into were either Thanatos, Hypnos, Charon (which he knew by now was nothing like he was on his game card), or Hades himself.

So, he tried, hoping to be right.

“Uh…” he started, hesitant. “Are you Hades?”

The man’s lips turned upwards into what looked like a smile. A very lazy, slick smile.

“Good,” he replied, nodding once and going back to a neutral expression. “Now, tell me, boy. I heard you came here a few days ago, throwing everyone into a general panic. How did you end up here?”

Nico took in a deep breath. Why was he talking about days? Didn’t he fall asleep and woke up as soon as they had put him into that room?

Still, he felt he had to answer. He didn’t want to anger a god.

“I teleported near that death river,” Nico explained. “Charon told me I could go with him. He asked about a…”

“Raise,” Hades interrupted him, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “He tells that to everyone. I already told him he doesn’t need one, but he keeps…” he let out a sigh, massaging his temple with a hand. “Either way, that does not concern you. Keep going.”

Nico did as he was told.

“Then, I went into that huge cave with Cerberus, and then I walked to those beeping things,” he continued, gesturing for those squared, white arcs under which he saw ghosts walk. “And then into the huge tent, where the man with the crown told me I could see my sister. So, I went, and then I…”

Nico wasn’t sure how to continue, since he still didn’t exactly know what had happened and how he ended up in there in the first place.

“Enough,” Hades interrupted him and his train of thought, a hand signaling him to stop talking. He was studying him with his dark, glistening eyes. “Now, tell me. Do you know who you are, Nico?”

He stared into Hades’ eyes at that question, reflecting. Nico frowned when he heard the god mention his name.

“I’m Nico Di Angelo,” he announced, confused as to how to answer that question since Hades seemed to already know. “I’m ten years old, and Bianca is my sister. I’m here to find her.”

At the mention of Bianca, he saw a minimal change in the expression of the god. His eyebrows frowned slightly as if something had hurt him.

He soon regained his stoic expression, though, looking at him judgingly.

“Do you know who your parents are, Nico?” Hades questioned again.

Nico felt that question cut straight through him. He couldn’t look at the god anymore, staring at his own hands and frowning.

He started feeling very sad, for some reason.

“No,” he admitted, holding back his excess of emotion. “I don’t remember them.”

He listened to the silence in the huge castle room, hearing Hades slowly shift on his throne.

“Your mother was called Maria Di Angelo,” Hades stated, and Nico finally looked up at him. He stared, not moving a muscle. “She was a beautiful, intelligent woman. She gave her life to protect you and your sister, many years ago.”

Nico wanted to cry. He had no idea who this woman was; he didn’t remember her in the slightest. Just a couple snippets here and there, but never a full memory.

Still, Hades seemed to know a lot about her. It seemed like he _knew_ her.

“How do you know?” Nico questioned, voice shaking. “Who told you my name?”

“I gave you that name, Nico,” the god replied, and Nico’s eyes widened. “It was your mother who chose your sister’s name instead.”

Nico felt he couldn’t speak properly anymore.

“You…” he hesitated, struggling to talk. “Are my father?”

Hades nodded once, again, slowly.

And Nico couldn’t think anymore.

Everything started sounding so loud, his ears almost ringing, and his eyes staring at the man in front of him. Joy, relief, delusion, and terror were all raging inside his chest because, now, he remembered.

That’s why it felt so familiar, almost comfortable being there. He had been in the Underworld many times in his dreams; he just didn’t know the place enough to call it with its actual name. That was why the people there all seemed to know his father, or even seemed to know _him_. That’s why he could feel when people were about to die and he and Bianca could see dead people in the corridors of that school where that man had put them, and the other kids would laugh at them.

His eyes started to water. He did not weep, though, since he knew he was supposed to be strong.

Tears stroked his cheeks as he kept his sobs inside his chest, quickly drying them as Hades just stared at him.

Nico had no idea what he was thinking.

“Listen, son,” he suddenly commanded, and Nico rose his glance up towards him again, looking at him behind glassy eyes. “I am only going to say this once. If you came here hoping to bring your sister back from the dead, I am sorry to inform you that there is no way that can happen. The dead stay dead, no matter how hard the living want them to come back. There is no exception to that rule.”

The god’s eyes pierced right through him, as he wasn’t only speaking to his face, but to his soul, too.

Nico couldn’t understand. He frowned, a deep sense of despair filling him up like thick, black water in a cup.

That couldn’t be.

“But…” he started to argue, wiping tears off his face. “She’s my sister! You _can_ bring her back!”

“Enough!” Hades ordered, his voice traveling through the walls and hitting Nico’s eardrums again, and again. “I’m not going to speak about this anymore. I did not raise you to talk back to me this way.”

“You didn’t even raise me!” Nico raged, fists tight. “You were never there for us! You left us in Las Vegas and then into that school and let Bianca die. I _hate_ you, and you don’t even want to bring her back now!”

Hades’ face now twisted into an angry scowl, and his eyes glistened red for a moment.

“You do not know what I have sacrificed for you both,” Hades growled, the people at his feet getting restless. Some of them started raising their swords. “You know nothing, Nico. You are arrogant, and I will not tolerate you speaking to me this way anymore.”

“Then let me see Bianca! I can bring her back with my powers,” Nico yelled, furious, pointing to himself. Dark shadows were starting to form around him, and he took the occasion to feel the cold energy wrapping around his body and engulfing him. “Tell me where she is!”

Hades rose from his throne then, fury burning behind his eyes.

“You have no idea what your powers can do,” he spoke, fuming, as this towering height in front of him. “And you will not speak to me again until you will learn to listen to someone other than yourself.”

Nico gritted his teeth then, staring at the man he was supposed to call his dad behind wet lashes.

“I _hate_ you!” He repeated, and soon he felt the shadows grabbing him and dragging him down, down, down.

They placed him back on some soft ground, and the first elements that met his eye were tall, familiar trees and a ground covered in icy, dry grass. He found himself on his knees yet again, crying out of frustration and exhaustion. He looked around, finding himself near a clearing with a huge pile of rocks placed on its center. Looking at the stack, he noticed the small spaces in between the boulders, enough for him to fit inside.

He didn’t even bother holding back the loud sobs and heavy tears as he jerkily walked towards the rocks, desperately searching for a place reminding him of something safe. He still couldn’t believe anything that had happened until then, but it didn’t feel like he had the energies to think about it just yet.

He just wanted to sleep for a long, long time. He didn’t have a bed anymore, and he still needed to search for his clothes. There was no one he could run to; not his sister, since she was still in the Underworld. Not his dad, since he was not going to help him and told him he wasn’t going to speak to him anymore.

So, he crouched to the ground and hid beneath the rocks. He brought his knees to his chest, holding himself with his arms to fight the cold and the shivers traveling down his spine, and wept.

Heavy, warm tears traveled down his face and chin, and he sobbed uncontrollably for what felt like minutes before he could sense something moving beneath him. He turned his head then, scared for what it could have been. It was too dark for him to see, but when he did, it was already too late.

An opening was forming on the ground, and his eyes widened as he tried to crawl back outside before being swallowed by the open crack beneath him.

He screamed as he fell down, down into the deep darkness, not familiar anymore since he couldn’t feel the shadows holding him and keeping him safe.

He hit the ground not long after, landing on his back, which caused him to moan in pain. He looked up, finding himself sitting on a hard, cold floor of which he couldn’t even distinguish the material. Touching the ground and trying to let the panic subside, it only got worse when he saw something glistening to the corner of his vision.

Turning around suddenly, all he could see behind his teary vision was a glistening blue triangle ingrained in one of the rocks.

Frowning, he wiped off his tears with a sleeve, getting closer to the symbol. Crawling on the ground, he observed its light pulsating and rose a hand to touch the borders of the figure.

He did so for a split second, though, retreating his hand almost immediately, remembering Charon and his comment about the river Styx.

No rushed decisions, he thought to himself. Otherwise, he would have ended up not finding Bianca anymore, and he would have never got to tell her goodbye.

If he could find a way out of that place, that was. Even though at that point, he wasn’t sure he would have liked to stay alive anymore.

Looking up, he was met with even more darkness, and not the slightest hint of an opening above his head. Having no idea how that had been possible, he sobbed again, looking around trying to get his eyes used to the darkness.

He just couldn’t find a reason to keep on going, apart from seeing Bianca again; but that, he thought, he could have done even if he had been dead. There was just one Underworld, he told himself, staring at the glistening incision beside him again.

A shaky breath traveled down his throat, and he found the symbol again with his hand. It didn’t seem warm, but it did seem almost ingrained in the stone. It looked alive, breathing.

He looked around again, eyes widening to try and catch some, any sort of light. But nothing was there. No noise, no smell, no movement. Everything seemed eerily still, but he still felt a presence his five senses could not detect.

But he was so, so tired. He remembered the tiredness from the first time he had teleported and the familiar weakness in his legs. He didn’t want to walk, and his stomach rumbled angrily in his belly.

Despite the panicked and alerted state he was in, he still couldn’t think of anything to do if not to wait and think about his next move. Knowing himself, he knew he could have been him who had opened the hole in the ground; if so, he was the one who knew how to get out.

He would have just needed to find a way.

Laying against the humid stone wall, staring at the pitch black dark in front of him, he searched for the fruit in his pocket. Grabbing it and rising it to his face, he saw it glistening in his hand.

Promising himself he would have just had a couple of bites to quiet down his hunger, he bit onto the skin and the hard pulp, tasting the sweet juice in his mouth. Slowly chewing it, his eyes grew wide from the intense taste spreading on his tongue. Its taste did remind him of an apple and a peach at the same time, but had the consistency of something softer, melting in his mouth like ice cream. As soon as he swallowed it, he felt his stomach burn with heat, spreading throughout his body like electricity.

And, suddenly, he wasn’t that hungry, nor thirsty anymore.

He stared at the mysterious fruit that had just made his tiredness melt like it was nothing and decided on it being its most precious possession at that moment.

Not even daring to take another bite, he secured it back inside his buttoned shirt’s pocket, and slowly got up from the floor. His legs had regained strength, and walking did not feel like dragging double his weight behind him anymore.

Touching the stone walls with one hand, he started walking towards the direction that felt the safest and trusted his gut to be right.

Dragging his bare feet on the ground, he felt a warm, calm wind moving his hair from his forehead. Listening to the silence around him, he kept on going.

There was nothing else left for him to do, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> this is supposed to be a series. it started out as a relatively big project, but I bet it'll shrink down to some stories and missing moments here and there because I find Nico's character fun to study. next one'll be the second part of this.
> 
> thank you for reading.
> 
> (also, gelato alla fragola is strawberry ice-cream in italian. gelato's not good in the north as it is in the south imo, but still)


End file.
